


Tight Fit

by shionz



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Awkward Flirting, Crushes, Embarrassment, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Humor, Insecure Katsuki Yuuri, Katsuki Yuuri Is Dying of Thirst, Love Confessions, M/M, Meet-Cute, Shopping Malls, Social Media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26208874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shionz/pseuds/shionz
Summary: Following that same path of delusion, Phichit is also, for some reason, convinced that Victor ‘totally wants to get in your pants, Yuuri, are youkidding? He comes to the food court everyday for areason, you oblivious sweetheart’.Victor — A.K.A Mr. Hot Stuff, Mr. Silver Fox, Mr. Of Course He Works At Abercrombie & Fitch.Or: The one where they all work at the mall and Yuuri's crush is killing him slowly.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri
Comments: 27
Kudos: 351





	Tight Fit

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by [tendouz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendouz/pseuds/tendouz) ٩(^ᴗ^)۶

Phichit has a track record of continuously believing things that are blatantly false — like when he believed, if only for a few minutes, that the moon landing really _was_ fake just because Twitter said so, or how he’s still adamant that Avril Lavigne was seriously replaced by a lookalike (“I don’t know who that is,” Yuuri had said, and then Phichit proceeded to shriek in disbelief and smack Yuuri with a hairbrush for being uncultured).

Following that same path of delusion, Phichit is also, for some reason, convinced that Victor ‘totally wants to get in your pants, Yuuri, are you _kidding_? He comes to the food court everyday for a _reason_ , you oblivious sweetheart’.

Victor — A.K.A Mr. Hot Stuff, Mr. Silver Fox, Mr. Of Course He Works At Abercrombie & Fitch.

Yuuri’s had a crush on that absolute adonis of a man since the day Phichit forced Yuuri to work at the mall with him so he didn’t have to suffer alone. Yuuri has no clue what a guy like that is doing working in a store so stuffy with perfume it’d make a pageant queen pass out, when he should really be participating in something like New York Fashion Week — or whatever other fashion events exist, Yuuri doesn’t know; he wears video game shirts covered in soy sauce stains everyday. 

And the only thing that made that innocent crush grow and grow until Yuuri was sure he would simply explode from the sheer amount of _feelings_ stored in his chubby little body, was that Victor insisted on coming to their shabby ice cream stall in the food court _every single day_ ; all dazzling smiles and magazine worthy hair flips. 

“Just a few samples for today, please. I need to watch my figure, y’know?” he always says, and Yuuri just smiles and nods, pointedly _not_ thinking about the aforementioned figure and other strenuous activities needed to stay in that kind of shape.

Phichit just snickers at Yuuri’s inner turmoil every time (and sometimes outer, too, because he really is just a mess of a human being) while Yuuri tries not to make like an ostrich and bury his head in a tub of ice cream until Victor finally leaves. 

“I’m telling you, he never came here until you started working with me,” Phichit insisted.

“Wh—maybe he’s just had a craving for ice cream lately?” For three months… 

“Mm, keylime Katsuki, our newest flavor,” he deadpanned. “Yuuri, he makes heart eyes at you the second he sees you across the building.”

Yuuri then took off his glasses and shoved them onto Phichit’s face, his friend blinking rapidly and looking very much like a confused bug. “That helping your vision at all?” he asked. “I can help you set up an optometrist appointment.”

Phichit spluttered. “Yeah, okay, _mom_.” 

Which leads us to where Yuuri and Phichit are, now.

Victor, for the first time in three months, didn’t show up to the food court during his break. 

Yuuri insisted that Victor was just busy, or possibly sick and didn’t show up at all (and for a terrible, stressful few seconds, Yuuri even convinced himself that Victor was avoiding him for… some reason? It made sense to his Anxiety Brain™). Phichit, on the other hand, was convinced Victor was most definitely dead. Missed one day of free ice cream samples? He definitely died, then — of course. No other explanation. 

“We have to go check on him!” Phichit exclaimed. “Make sure his corpse wasn’t _actually_ flayed by some angry Karen when he couldn’t give her the perfect cologne recommendation, or whatever.”

“Phichit, I’ll have an asthma attack if I go in there,” Yuuri had whined. “And I don’t even have asthma.” 

And Victor may be hot and sweet, but Yuuri refused to spend more time with him than strictly necessary, because Yuuri would definitely do something embarrassing in front of him and have to end his own life right there in the store… surrounded by hot models and their washboard abs. What a way to go, honestly.

Well… that was the case until about ten minutes ago, before Phichit made it clear he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the health of Yuuri’s lungs, heart, or deteriorating mental state, grabbed him by the arm, and lugged him halfway across the mall to Abercrombie during _their_ break. 

So now the two of them are weaving through the racks of overpriced clothing while the newest radio hits pierce their eardrums through the speakers overhead, playing spy together and staying on the lookout for a certain silver haired hottie. 

Phichit plucks a white button up off a table and holds it in front of his face, eyes darting over it like a man hiding behind a newspaper. Yuuri smacks him across the chest to get his attention and Phichit jumps, gasping when he accidentally drops the shirt and it falls to the dirty floor. 

“I feel like an idiot,” Yuuri hisses as Phichit scrambles to pick it up. “What if he’s not even here? Actually, no, I’ll still feel like an idiot even if he is.” _Especially_ if he is.

“If he’s not here, we head back to the food court like nothing happened,” he replies with a shrug. 

Yuuri narrows his eyes. “... And if he is?”

“You propose to his fine ass the second you see him, _duh_.” Phichit rolls his eyes. “And it really is a fine ass, too; I did suggest we nickname him Mr. Hot Butt, but you didn’t like that one for some reason.”

Yuuri lurches forward to go on the attack again, but Phichit grabs his hand and tugs him along to sneak behind another rack when an employee starts heading their way. 

“You can’t expect me to actually talk to him,” Yuuri says through gritted teeth, idly refolding a stack of t-shirts once they come to a stop.

Yuuri? Make the first move? It seems Phichit’s excessive social media usage is finally giving him brain damage. 

“Of course I can! And I _do_!” Phichit flails his arms in exasperation. “You both _clearly_ like each other, and I also think you’re both a little stupid. Something has to happen, and if you’re the one who was to do it — then so be it!”

Yuuri cuts him off with a shriek and ducks behind the nearest mannequin when he spots something shiny and silver across the room. They both brace themselves and slowly peek around it, only to breathe a sigh of relief when they realize it’s just an elderly woman walking by. 

Yuuri straightens up when his heart rate returns to normal and turns back to his friend. “You can’t just talk to him for me?” he wheedles and shifts on his feet. He even whips out the puppy dog eyes he learned from Phichit himself.

“Hey! You can’t use my own weapons against me,” he scolds and wags his finger. “And, _absolutely_ not. This isn’t middle school.” 

They both pause at that and look around, remembering that they are, in fact, stalking Yuuri’s crush at his place of work. “Okay, well,” Phichit huffs, “whatever! You gotta do what you gotta do…”

Yuuri groans and sags against a display of seventy dollar sweatpants. He pulls back immediately, though, feeling like he’s somehow tainting everything he touches. After a few more minutes of trying to stop Phichit from spraying cologne in his mouth to see what would happen, and both of them using their hands like a pair of binoculars but finding no sign of their target, Yuuri starts to give up.

He’s not even sure what he would’ve done if he saw Victor anyway. Just say, “Oh okay, cool, he’s not dead!” and then run out? Probably. If he were to see Victor outside of the food court, there’s no way in hell Yuuri would be able to form sentences that didn’t adhere to the customer service script he tries to stick to at all times; even when Victor tries to coax him out of it by constantly flashing pictures of his adorable poodle for some reason. Yuuri has to try his hardest not to absolutely _melt_ when that happens.

He turns in a slow circle to give the place another once over before they head out, and sighs. “I don’t think he’s here.” 

“I think you’re right,” Phichit mumbles, and then points a finger right in Yuuri’s face, “but this is the _only_ time you’ll ever hear me say that sentence.”

Yuuri scoffs and shoves his hand away, which leads to a mini, standing up wrestling match that nearly gets them kicked out when they knock a mannequin over. Fortunately, Phichit stops it mid-fall before disaster can occur. 

He smooths out the pair of shorts on the display and looks back with a beaming grin. “While we're here we should try and get you something!”

“Me?” Yuuri frowns and fiddles with the side of his glasses. “Why?”

“Because I want to burn everything you own.” He smiles sweetly. “But it’s almost Leo’s birthday, and we all agreed to dress up when we went out…" He shoots Yuuri a withering glance. “Or did you forget?” 

Yuuri coughs into his arm. “Ah, no…” He didn’t forget _completely_ … He knew it was… this month. Or, around there.

Phichit punches his arm and Yuuri squawks as he staggers backward. “ _Sure_.”

Once Phichit has his mind set on something, it’s near impossible to steer him elsewhere, so Yuuri succumbs to the torture that is shopping with Phichit Chulanont and trails behind him in defeat.

It is very much the chick flick shopping montage he expects it to be, with the only thing missing being the bubblegum pop and sped up scenes to make the time pass a little faster (and he is desperately wishing for the latter right now). They both agree that the only thing they can afford in here is a shirt, yet Yuuri still ends up with a stack of clothes up to his chin while he waddles to the dressing rooms.

He tries on skinny jeans and scarves, button ups and sweaters, and Phichit makes him come out to model every single one of them while Yuuri groans like a bad-tempered toddler. He directs Yuuri to spin in front of the mirrors and strike dramatic poses like his old ballet teacher, giggling and snapping as many photos as he can before Yuuri gets antsy and runs back to the dressing room, too; even though he knows Yuuri will try and pummel him to the ground later if he uploads any of them to Instagram. (Phichit will do it anyway, though — apparently a fist to the face is worth it for a few hundred likes.)

When he checks his phone and realizes they only have a few minutes left until their break ends, he shimmies back into his uniform and looks down at the crumpled pile of clothes on the bench, all ill-fitting or just not Yuuri’s style. 

Some would argue Yuuri has no style whatsoever, and that all of these were major steps up from what he usually wears, Phichit included, but _whatever_ … Yuuri just doesn’t want to dress like some college dudebro. 

“I think that was all of them,” Yuuri calls through the door. Phichit is still sitting in the chair outside, like a mom waiting for her daughter to try on prom dresses, buzzing with unnecessary excitement; he gets _way_ too much joy out of Yuuri’s endless misery. “I’m not sure I liked anything I tried on though…”

“Wait!” Phichit shouts, his voice loud and echoing through the empty rooms around them. Yuuri winces. 

He hears Phichit mumbling something, accompanied by the mysterious rustle of fabric, and looks up to see a black shirt suddenly dangling over the door, swaying impatiently in his friend’s hand. “Here! Try this before we go. It’s cute!”

Yuuri plucks it out of his hand and holds it up to examine. “I think this is a little small…” He frowns. 

It’s a black button up with bell bottom sleeves, the buttons up the center sewn into place except for a few undone at the top. He’d have to pull it over his head to get it on, and Yuuri can already tell there’s no way that’s happening. Also… he thinks this is from the women’s section. He frowns harder. Not happening.

“It’s not _small._ It’s snug in _all_ the right places,” Phichit says with a flirty lilt to his voice, and Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Show off them Katsuki curves!”

“No one wants to see my muffin top.” 

“Love handles,” his friend corrects.

“ _Hate_ handles.”

The door suddenly rattles like somebody roundhouse kicks it with all their might, and Yuuri jumps back with a yelp.

“No one’s allowed to insult my best friend, and that includes himself!” Phichit shouts. 

“Alright, alright…” Yuuri sighs with a shake of his head and holds it up again. 

Just one more shirt, and then they’ll be on their way. He already knows he’s not going to buy it, but Phichit is an insistent little pest that he loves with all his heart, so the least he can do is try it on (and have a few more pictures taken to document his torture, too) so they can finally get back to work. That’s fine. 

It’s not fine. 

Yuuri’s train of thought as he puts the shirt on and studies himself in the mirror goes something like this: Pulling it over his head — _this isn’t going to fit_. Putting his arms through the sleeves — _oh, this is_ definitely _not going to fit_. Tugging it down over his stomach and checking himself out in the mirror — _oh… maybe Phichit was onto something about those Katsuki Curves_ _™._

All is well and good, and he even thinks his previous decision was wrong — he actually _might_ buy this one, on second thought — until… he tries to take it off.

With another call of, “Okay, I’m done now. And y’know what, I actually feel kinda _hot_ in this one,” to Phichit, he tugs the shirt up from the back of the neck and pulls… and that’s when he realizes there’s a problem.

He may have been able wriggle himself into it somehow, but there isn’t a chance of him getting out of it. 

“Uh, Phichit…”

A distracted hum sounds through the door.

“Little help here?”

“Whats up?” he asks, and Yuuri hears him stand, footsteps eventually coming up to the door before they stop just outside. Yuuri curses and realizes with a blush that he’s going to have to unlock the door like this, stomach on display with the shirt pulled taut over his face, his arms stuck in the air where the fabric is straining around his less than impressive biceps.

He shuffles forward so he doesn’t trip, awkwardly leans down with his arms straight out in front of him, and blindly switches the lock before taking a cautious step back.

He doesn’t even need to see Phichit’s face to know he’s about to be laughed at. 

“I…” Yuuri tries to bend his arms down to show that he really can’t move, but the tightness has him worried something might rip, so he straightens back up. “I can’t get it off,” he whines.

“Oh my god,” Phichit breathes, choking on a huff of laughter that slips out at the end. Yuuri just _knows_ his face is bright red, and is briefly grateful for the impromptu mask. 

“Can you—?”

Phichit cuts him off with a gasp. “Wait, hold still!” he shouts. “I need a picture of this, too!”

“Phichit!” Yuuri cries, frantically spinning around and trying to shield himself from the camera, tripping over his own feet in the process and slamming into the wall.

Yuuri feels a hand grab onto one of his still-stuck arms and it swiftly turns him around and makes him stumble (though he stays upright this time, fortunately). When Yuuri hears the click of a camera go off, he knows it’s too late and groans loudly in despair. Phichit cackles. 

“Okay, _now_ I’ll help,” he laughs. 

“Thanks.” Yuuri rolls his eyes even though it goes unseen. “You’re the best friend in the world.”

“Aw, I already knew that, but thanks for saying it.”

Yuuri sightlessly pushes forward and knocks Phichit into the closed door, and his friend yelps in surprise. “Do you want my help or not?!”

Yuuri huffs and stomps his foot, forcing out a meek, “ _Pleeease_ …” 

After lots of bickering, tugging around the neck, flipping the shirt up from the bottom, and some pulling on the sleeves themselves — which made them both pause and hold their breath when a terrifying _shrrkk_ of stretching fabric rang through the air — they finally stop, an angry red blush cascading all the way from Yuuri’s covered face to the center of his pale chest.

Phichit takes a step back and pointedly clears his throat while Yuuri’s chest heaves from both embarrassment and exhaustion; who knew trying to get out of tight clothes would be so much _work_. “Yuuri, I think—”

His blood runs cold. “No.”

“I think I’m gonna have to—”

“Phichit, _please_ , _no_! Just try again!”

“I tried everything! I—” A burst of giggles leaves Phichit’s mouth before he can stop it, and after a deep sigh, he finally announces, “I think I need to go get help.” 

“Phichit, nobody else can see me like this!”

“Well, what do you want me to do? You’re _stuck_!” he snickers. “Do you expect me to just find a pair of scissors and cut you out?”

“Yes? That’s exactly what I’d prefer?”

“No can do, buddy,” he says, regretful, but is quick to reassure him. “Look, it’ll be fine! Your day will just suck extra hard for about five minutes once I bring them in here, and then we can leave and pretend this never happened.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to protest, wanting to mention the fact that he will _never_ let Yuuri live this down, and he knows it, too. Yuuri will be on his deathbed and Phichit will make sure to slip this into a heartfelt conversation during his last waking moments, just so it’ll haunt him in the afterlife as hard as Yuuri’s planning on haunting him when the time comes.

He’s going to haunt Phichit _so hard_ … scary blood writing on the walls and everything, move all of his furniture slightly to the left just to piss him off. 

Phichit beats him to it though and adds, “Well, we can pretend it never happened after I’ve told everyone about it,” and Yuuri keens loudly.

He wiggles his arms stiffly back and forth in frustration. “I feel like one of those chubby kids who gets stuck in the swing at the park, and then his parents have to call the fire department to get him out.”

Phichit cackles so hard he stumbles. “You’re not a chubby kid, just a cutie with a wardrobe malfunction!” he says. “I’m gonna go get help, okay? It’ll just be in and out, super professional — trust me, and then we can go… You good?”

Yuuri’s arms are starting to ache from staying upright, and he thinks he may have to visit a hospital after this to see if an ever-lasting blush is a serious condition he should look into, because his is _not_ fading in the slightest. “... Yeah, I’m good,” he mumbles. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Alright,” Phichit replies. “I’ll be right back. Stay put, mister.”

Yuuri hums and steels himself for a hellish few minutes of absolute mortification, and at _least_ a month’s worth of mental pain that’s going to follow when his brain makes him relive this moment over and over and _over_ …

Yuuri hears him open the door and take a few steps out, leaving it cracked for easy access. A few seconds later, his ears also pick up on the choked noise that leaves Phichit’s mouth at the end of the hall, and he stiffens. 

“What?” Yuuri asks, dread filling his voice.

“Nothing! Nothing,” he replies around a shocked laugh, then noisily clears his throat. “I’ll just, uh… yeah, I’ll be back with help in a minute!” 

Yuuri sighs deeply, which turns out to be a bad idea because he feels like he’s suffocating the second he does it, and idly walks back and forth in the dressing room, hoping he doesn’t misstep and ram his shin into the bench somewhere beside him. 

He feels anxiety and dread coil tightly in his stomach at the thought of some snooty employee coming in here, seeing him in this state and undoubtedly judging him the second they walk in. Once this is over, they’re probably going to tell all of their coworkers about it, too, make it the story of the week, and all of them will remember the embarrassing food court boy who got stuck inside a shirt he could barely afford and— 

The door creaks open again and Yuuri jolts at the sound, only relaxing a fraction when he realizes it’s Phichit… until he says, in a voice that ramps his nerves _right_ back up, “Your knight in shining armor is here to rescue you from your fabric prison at once, Yuuri!”

“My… huh?”

Yuuri slowly turns, rigid as ever. He’s only able to make out silhouettes through the material over his face, and not much else, but when he sees a tall figure standing beside his friend, he _knows_ … 

He _knows_ that figure — has seen it almost everyday, has had very, _ahem_ … intense dreams about it, though he’d never admit it. (But Yuuri doesn’t really have to admit to anything. Phichit definitely knows about it already and would call him out in an instant if the situation arose, because of course he would…)

Yuuri’s heart sinks and his breath catches in his throat, and he really doesn’t know whether he should be laughing or crying right now; or maybe he should just bowl past them both, move back to Japan, change his name, and become a lone fisherman for the rest of his days, put this out of his memory forever.

Is it possible to induce amnesia? Because he might try once this is over.

“Hi, Yuuri,” Victor breathes, in a voice that is clearly both amused _and_ confused.

“I… Hi?” His voice cracks, and he suddenly feels fifteen all over again.

Phichit snorts and sidles farther into the room, closing the door behind them once Victor steps the rest of the way in, and Yuuri can’t help but take a small step back. 

“I thought you weren’t here today,” Yuuri mutters.

“I was just working in the back for awhile,” he replies, and Yuuri can just barely make out the way his shoulders move up and down in a shrug. “You only show up when you think I’m not around?” The pout in his voice is _very_ obvious.

Yuuri splutters in protest and somehow manages to trip over his feet again, and he bites back a squeak when a muscular arm settles over his back and waist to stop him from falling. “N-no! I just… I was…” He sighs and swallows his pride. “Can you get this off?”

“Wow, I didn’t expect to get to second base so soon!”

Yuuri makes a strangled noise and Victor chuckles as he takes a step back to better assess the situation. Yuuri has to try his hardest not to shrink away from his gaze. 

“So, how did this…” Victor trails off.

“It’s Phichit’s fault.”

“Hey!” 

“Ah.” Victor nods, like it makes perfect sense. He hasn’t seen much of Phichit, but their little interactions in the food court everyday are enough for him to… understand. “Okay then, let’s see here…”

Victor moves forward and Yuuri tries not to stiffen when deft fingers come up to the collar of the shirt around his head and tug experimentally. From this close up, Yuuri can smell the cologne on him even through the fabric covering his face, and it’s none of the overbearing stuff they keep stocked in the store. It smells fresh, but masculine… _expensive_.

Yuuri probably smells like fried food and nacho cheese. 

“We already tried that,” he says, quietly, when Victor runs his fingers around the crown of Yuuri’s head and pulls some more. 

Victor hums thoughtfully and steps back again, tracing the loose ends of the shirt around Yuuri’s torso instead, and he suppresses a shiver. Of course their first real interaction can’t be something like in the movies, where they run into each other while walking their dogs, Yuuri suddenly becomes a master flirt, and then they go out for coffee and get married the very next day. Y’know, _romance_ … He sighs inwardly. At least he can dream.

Victor clears his throat and moves in once again, his voice coming out surprisingly stilted and awkward in a way Yuuri’s never heard before. “Alright, uh… I think I have to—” He cuts off with a sigh, clearly flustered, but Yuuri would be hard-pressed to say _why_. “Okay, sorry about this.”

And that’s about all the warning he gets before Victor is sliding right in with his arm tight around Yuuri’s bare waist and their chests touching — and this time he really does squeak, just to make the situation even worse — as Victor tugs on the sleeve as hard as he can, using Yuuri’s body to anchor himself. 

Victor’s fingers press into his side the harder he pulls and Yuuri damn near squeals, but it’s not like he can _help it_ , okay? He’s ticklish _and_ has a hot guy touching all over him; what is he supposed to do? 

“This okay?” Victor asks softly in his ear, then feels the need to add, “You’re very cuddly,” with a squeeze to his waist for emphasis. Somehow, Yuuri’s legs don’t give out completely as he nods. 

Victor chuckles and lets up a little when he starts squirming too much, and eventually backs off completely when the shirt doesn’t budge much more than it did during previous attempts.

And whether or not Yuuri’s happy about that, he can’t say for sure.

“I’m gonna murder Phichit once this is over."

“You hear that?” Victor calls over his shoulder, where his friend is being oddly quiet for once. “Prepare yourself.”

“Yuuri wouldn’t do anything to hurt me!” he chirps. “He owes me one after this anyway. This is probably the best day of his life!”

“Phichit!”

Victor laughs loudly at that, so Yuuri can’t be _too_ mad, really…

A second later, hands come up to settle on Yuuri’s shoulders, like a coach getting ready to give their student a much needed pep talk. “Alright, let’s try this one more time,” Victor says. He readjusts, then, and an arm comes back around Yuuri’s waist, its weight comforting and sure as another hand reaches up to grasp one of the sleeves as he starts a countdown. “Three… two… one!” _Pull_.

Yuuri feels the tightness around his bicep increase before releasing instantly as the shirt’s yanked over his head and left to dangle loosely from his other arm, which Victor easily tugs all the way off, leaving Yuuri… completely shirtless in front of his crush now. Great. He has half a mind to just put it back on.

The other two whoop and cheer happily while Yuuri catches his breath and frantically pats his hair down with one hand. His arms are steadily regaining feeling after being held up for so long, and pins and needles are tingling intensely under his skin.

“He’s a free man again!” Phichit exclaims. “Looks like all we needed was a little muscle, huh, Yuuri?” He winks, and Yuuri blushes all over again.

“I guess so, yeah…” he says, finally looking up to face his savior, and oddly enough, Victor is looking just as flushed as he is — even a little shy, too. “Ah, and, uh, thank you… Victor,” he bumbles.

The silver haired man’s timid expression clears and he beams cheerfully, rocking on his feet. “You’re welcome! Oh, and…” His eyes flit to the bench and he shoots an arm out to grab Yuuri’s uniform shirt, quickly handing it over. “Here you go.”

Yuuri takes it gratefully and pulls it over his head (and only _then_ does Victor feel the need to look away, for some reason — hot people are weird), leaning down for his glasses too and fumbling awkwardly before he shoves them back onto his face. 

All of this has been way too chaotic for his liking, and now he’s more disoriented and flustered than he ever wanted to be during his first real conversation with Victor… but at least he’s not half naked anymore.

“Thanks again,” he mumbles, somehow managing a smile this time even as his heart is beating like a rabbit’s. “Hopefully next time I see you I won’t be making a total idiot out of myself.” (Though that’s _very_ unlikely.)

Victor jumps at his response, seemingly remembering something, and swiftly interjects. “About that!” he says, eyes shining and hopeful, and Yuuri startles. “Uh… before you leave, could I maybe… get your number?”

Yuuri’s heart stutters in his chest and he blinks up at him, owlish and clearly not hearing correctly. His _number_? So Victor can easily contact him to pay for the damaged shirt if he can’t pay for it now? Oh god, he probably knows Yuuri has no business being in a store like this, doesn’t he? 

“My… wh—”

Phichit screeches in delight.

“Oh no, I _was_ reading the signals right, wasn’t I? You _don’t_ like me,” Victor says slowly, looking oh-so humiliated, and quickly shakes his head and waves his hands around. “Sorry, sorry, pretend I didn’t say anything then! Have a nice day; glad I could help you out!” His expression morphs into one of false cheer and he swiftly turns to grasp the door handle and make an easy escape.

Yuuri surprises even himself when he lurches forward to grab Victor’s arm. 

“No, wait!” he shouts. “You _like_ me?” Then he shakes his head, baffled. “You thought I didn’t like _you_?”

Victor allows himself to be turned around, lips pursed and still looking incredibly embarrassed. “Yuuri, I said your glasses were cute the other day and you just told me I could buy a similar pair on Amazon if I liked them so much,” he gently reminds him. “And then you immediately handed me my order and ran away.”

“Oh my god, Yuuri, you said that? Was that when I went to the bathroom?” Phichit asks incredulously. “This is why I can’t leave my precious child unattended!”

Oh… so Phichit wasn’t being delusional for once. _Damn it_ , he’s totally going to make Yuuri do the dishes for a month now as a form or punishment for not believing him, and Yuuri can already feel his fingers pruning up and his soul withering away just thinking about it.

Yuuri puts his face in his hands and groans in disbelief. This is _not_ how he wanted this to go — he wanted to be cool, suave, charming, sweep the man right off his feet, but apparently _that_ isn’t going to be happening now (or ever, because who is he kidding, really?). 

“Of _course_ I like you!” he says, voice muffled. “I like you so much, it’s stupid!” 

There’s a beat of silence that makes Yuuri regret every decision he’s ever made leading up to this moment before he suddenly gets an armful of the man of his dreams, strong arms _and_ legs wrapping tightly around him, and Yuuri yelps as they both tumble into the wall, no doubt bothering every customer in the store by now.

“Oh, Yuuri!” he cries excitedly, nuzzling his face against Yuuri’s neck, and— _wow_ , that feels nice. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I’m gonna take you on the cute ice cream date you deserve! We can even buy little cones for our dogs!”

Yuuri is in no position to give a response right now, being pressed firmly against the wall (a feeling he could _really_ get used to if Victor’s involved) while his heart threatens to beat out of his chest is practically rendering him speechless, so he settles on a nod instead and rubs a hand gently up and down Victor’s back — and he just can’t help it when a goofy smile takes over his entire face, too. 

In the corner with his phone out, Phichit sniffles and wipes away fake tears. “They grow up so fast…”

Once Victor is pried off and stops staring adoringly at Yuuri (for reasons Yuuri can’t possibly fathom) long enough to form sentences again, phone numbers are finally, and happily, exchanged, and the three of them exit the dressing rooms with their smiles never dropping for a second.

The moment they step out into the store, though, they’re greeted by a passing employee. A pretty looking blonde man with a dark undercut, his nametag introducing him as _Chris_. 

They all immediately skid to a stop, and the man gives them an appraising look up and down, taking in their flushed faces, Yuuri’s still disheveled hair, and all of their previously beaming smiles.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he says to Victor with an eyebrow raised. “ _You_ can have threesomes in the dressing rooms, but _I_ can’t?” 

Victor chokes and hauls them both out of the store.  
  


* * *

**_  
phichit+chu_ ** _made a post!  
  
_

[ **image 1 description:** Yuuri mid-fall with a black shirt stuck on his head and his arms flailing in the air.]

[ **image 2 description:** Victor happily clinging to a blushing Yuuri like the octopus of a man that he is.]

 _sweet, little yuuri finally got a date with his Mr. Hot Butt!_ **_@v-nikiforov @katsudamn-ky_ ** _#congratsonsecondbase #truelove_

Liked by **v-nikiforov** and 215 others

Comments:

 **v-nikiforov:** **_@katsudamn-ky_ ** _yuuri !!! you think my butt is hot !!!_ ( ´ ♡ ` )

 **katsudamn-ky:** _i hate it here_  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Got tired while writing my longer fic that's currently in progress and decided to pump out this ridiculous thing instead. And it's under 10k for once! Go me! I don't know when I started headcanonning Phichit as an absolute Disaster Friend, but I'm back at it with annoying Phichit too. My baby ♡
> 
> (Sidenote: I mentioned Leo's birthday being 'soon' in this fic, but it's actually already passed... August 2nd, ignore that lmfao. I was also imagining them all in college here, but couldn't find a good place to slip that in, whoops. Anyway, enjoy!)
> 
>  **Comments & kudos are greatly appreciated!!!** | Follow my [YOI tumblr](https://nagachikaz.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Edit, 11/8/20: Fixed some spelling, wording, and punctuation that was bothering me:-)


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